The Adventures of the ChibiBee
by Nurannoniel T.I.M.E
Summary: Who would've thought that this time, it wasn't Vista's fault? Bayformers/AU, OCs & T for 'bot swearing/mild violence. CB and Byte's personal logs 3-5 added
1. Chapter 1

The Adventures of the Chibi-Bumbles

By Nurannoniel Amruniel T.I.M.E.

Rated T for language and violence.

A/N: I don't actually have a beta right now, so if you guys see something that needs fixing – be it grammatical, spelling, or something that just plain doesn't make sense -, please point it out in a review or email me at with the details and I'll try and fix it. Thank you!!

Prologue

* * *

"What do you mean it's not Vista's fault? My laptop's been glitching out since the moment we installed that damn – hey, don't you – hello? Hello?? SLAG!!"

You're probably wondering what in the Pit that was all about. Well, you see – hey, don't click that back button yet! I'm not writing a cliché, I swear! … Okay, so maybe I am, but will you just hear me out for a minute?

Look, have you ever owned a piece of technology that you absolutely would swear was possessed by the Chaos Bringer himself? Or maybe you just named it and laughed the problems off as if it were a personality-challenged mini-'bot? Who're we kidding, you're a Transformers fan, you wouldn't be in this section if you weren't; of course you've named something as if it were a robot in disguise. I used to, too.

This started when I'd ordered one of those Dell Inspiron laptops for college last summer. You know the ones; they come in flamingo pink, iguana green, a sunshine yellow that rivals Bumblebee's, and a bunch of other colours. Anyways, it was a techno-nightmare from the beginning. First it was a week late. Then of course, those things come with Vista, so you can just imagine… My attempt to set up a password protect when I first booted it up got me locked out. I had to re-install everything, from the OS to the drivers to the complimentary virus protection. Then, a couple of weeks later while trying to type up lecture notes, my MS Word '07 suddenly started changing question marks to Es, inverting my quotation marks, and…well, let's just say it took me a couple of months to come up with a legend for all of the punctuation changes. My Gadgets randomly reorganize themselves, and I can't reboot without being flashed a Blue Screen and sitting for a half-hour while the auto-repair tries to figure out why it's trying to self-destruct itself.

Oh yeah, and it beeps. It's actually kind of embarrassing to be sitting in a lecture, and all of a sudden your laptop beeps at the top of its speakers for seemingly no reason at all, in spite of the volume button being most assuredly pressed to "muted."

Mind you, you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing from computers by now. I used to work in a hardware store that uses those self-check-out machines, and they had "personalities" too. One would reject perfectly good cards, another's scale would be wrong no matter how many times we called someone to recalibrate it, another would beep and start it's greeting and end-transaction speeches when there wasn't a human within ten feet of it, and another would come up with the strangest fatal errors at the worst possible second. It's just the way technology is though, right?

Ah, there's that lovely little key word we all love: "right?" Now, you've probably read enough of these sorts of fics to know what I'm going to say next, so you might as well say it with me:

-click-

* * *

Chapter one, coming soon! And feel free to light a fire under my aft if you feel I'm going too slow.


	2. 1: I h8 ur wrld

The Adventures of the Chibi-Bumbles

By Nurannoniel Amruniel T.I.M.E.

Who would've thought that this time, it wasn't Vista's fault?

A/N: I don't actually have a beta right now, so if you guys see something that needs fixing – be it grammatical, spelling, or something that just plain doesn't make sense -, please point it out in a review or email me at nurannoniel (at) yahoo (dot) com with the details and I'll try and fix it. Thank you!

Chapter one

(1)

"Bee!"

The yellow, silver, and black laptop shut off his screen and transformed, a scowl showing in his optics. The speaker screen in his faceplate bent ever-so slightly downwards.

"You're pulling my hydraulics," he snarled. "You're introduction sucks ball-bearings."

"I don't see you coming up with any brilliant ideas, Bumbles," replied the 'bots 'owner', Kelsey. She pulled back her medium-length blond hair into a ponytail and flopped back onto her bed with a sigh.

The laptop's cooling fan revved. Standing at three-foot four, he was more menacing than one would think for one that size. Yellow horn-like antennae flicked back and forth above a pair of sapphire-blue compounded optics. Claws stretched out from the ends of long, thin arms. He folded his arms across his chest in a human gesture of impatience. Wings composed of the laptop's halved screen flicked slightly as the tiny Autobot bounced once on the mattress and landed on his aft. Cylindrical framed legs crossed and came to rest on Kelsey's lap.

"Okay, so writing a 'fan fiction' about yourself is harder than it sounds," grumbled the 'bot. Why he'd agreed to let the human write about him, he'd never figure out. He briefly wondered if he had a glitch in his processors – then he remembered the 'operating system' that was taking up a good deal of his memory, and he decided that yes, that must have been the problem. He made a mental note to have a medic remove all traces of it if he ever got back to his universe.

The twenty-one year old, five-foot tall human laying next to him just grinned. "Why don't you try for a bit, then? A real team effort for once, since you're so sick of me dictating to you."

The mini-bot contemplated this for a moment. "Yeah, okay."

(1)

My name is…

Your inferior organic vocalizers can't pronounce my real name, so you can address me by the name my human gave me; Chibi-BumbleBee.

I'm an Autobot.

Now, I hear humans in this universe believe that us Autobots are a bunch of fictional characters, created for your amusement.

That's why I hate your universe.

I wouldn't be here, except…

(1)

"Bee!"

"WhaaAAAaaat?"

Kelsey threw a ball of paper at the mini-'bot.

"Show some manners to our audience you pile of scrap!"

A loud clank emanated from the yellow Autobot as he slapped his forehead.

"Smelt you."

(1)

Where was I? Oh yeah, so that's why I _dislike_ your universe.

I wouldn't be here, except for what happened while I was out on a mission.

I was out spying on Decepticons when something really freaky happened. The 'con I was tracking pulled out the lamest looking ray gun I have EVER seen and shot me with it. My aft was still smoking when I came to some time later, laying in a ditch that looked the similar to the one I thought I had been left in. Damaged and desperate to get out of there before that glitch-mouse came back to finish me, I snuck on to a truck that had stopped on the side of the road. My luck appeared to be improving; the truck was delivering computers. I scanned a bright yellow laptop and… misplaced it (outside the back of the truck) before settling in for the long run.

I was startled out of my repair cycle when the box I'd hidden in opened to reveal a rather geeky-looking human. He opened up my screen and started trying to "boot me up," oo-ing and ah-ing over my alt mode and muttering something about his sister was going to love me. I did my best to improvise data I'd picked up from the original laptop computer, but I knew I'd be in trouble soon because I had no idea what I was supposed to be displaying on my screen at that moment. Within a few breems a golden-furred organic femme entered the building and joined the other one in poking and prodding me.

I displayed screen after screen of useless data, allowing them to fill in blanks like computer name and network information. Then I came across an interesting file that gave me an idea:

"Would you like to password protect your computer?"

"Yeah, sure, since I'm going to be taking it out in public," replied the femme.

Perfect.

The human entered her username and password information, then went to start up the operating system I'd come to know as "Windows Vista." Suddenly, everything froze.

The femme typed her information in again, and I returned the display to its default blank text boxes. She tried a third time, then cursed.

"It's not letting me in!"

"Here, let me try," and the male pushed her aside. "What'd you use?" She replied with some gibberish and he clicked away on the keyboard a few times before giving up. "Are you sure you didn't screw it up?"

This time she shoved him aside and tried a different combination, similar to her original. She tried a number of combinations, becoming more and more frustrated each time I refused to allow her access. This little dance continued for over an hour before they finally stopped. The femme was leaking fluid from her optics by this point.

The male tried to comfort her and told her they'd call something called "tech support" if their maternal unit couldn't get me to work either. She begrudgingly agreed to this before storming off. Seemingly concerned for his sibling, the male whose designation seemed to be "Matt" picked up a communication device hanging on the wall and started to explain to someone on the other end about the "computer trouble" they were having. When he returned the receiver to its cradle, he called the femme called "Kelsey" back in to the room and told her that their maternal unit had suggested reinstalling Vista.

Now, I'll admit, I was a bit nervous about letting them install alien software onto me, but if I was going to keep my disguise for any length of time then I didn't have much of a choice. They opened my disk drive and stuck in a disk. I reviewed the information quickly and had to resist violently purging it; I had never seen such a mess of coding in my life! Contradictions in coding, programs that if I was stupid enough to run them would cause severe glitches… But I sucked in air through my vents and started copying the data anyways. I had some experience in programming, so I modified as much coding as I could in order to preserve my own functions. It wasn't easy; the OS was serious slag. By the time I returned to the password protect screen, the femme had decided to forgo the extra security measures and went on to finish the boot up protocols. Now knowing what to display, I let them play with my alt mode. As… _distasteful_ as having organic digits running over me was, I was lost and still had some internal damage. Begrudgingly, I settled in for a long, nightmarish wait.

(1)

Another paper ball flew through the air and connected with the Autobot's head. This time, he tossed it back at the girl. "Now what did I say wrong?"

"Oh c'mon," Kelsey said, "the past year hasn't been that bad, has it?"

Chibi-'Bee's fan revved a bit in aggravation.

The human rolled her eyes before sitting back on her bed once more. 'Bee had been pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor of Kelsey's bedroom, reciting out loud what he had been recording in their shared short story.

"You know, whatever…" he at last grumbled at her and transformed. She screamed at him them left the room; she had learned that when the mini-bot clammed up like this, it was useless to try and talk to him. He had, after all, been able to keep quite for almost a year before revealing himself and she knew he would maintain an extended silence once again just to annoy her.

Not too long ago she had thought that he was nothing more than a malfunctioning compact computer unit. He had waited in silence, accessing the Internet at every chance possible in order to try and contact his people. He had found ghost traces of others who were lost like him, but each attempt to ping the signals for coordinates had left him nothing but sluggish processors and a strong desire to slag someone. It didn't help that his 'net surfing had revealed just how slagged he truly was. While he clearly didn't feel like a member of a fictional race, he had found pictures and data referring to Autobots as cartoon and movie characters. Whatever this place was, Cybertronians clearly weren't supposed to exist here...

On the bright side, a few weeks prior to this conflict he had finally received a response from someone.

A micro-bot scout calling himself "Byte" had been tracking 'bots vanishing from their home universe. When he found a Decepticon agent reported to have been using a weapon that made 'bots disappear into thin air, he had known that he'd found the cause of the disappearances and had tried to steal the weapon. The gun had been fired by accident, however, and now he was stuck here too. After making contact with 'Bee, Byte had made his way to the Autobot tracker and had also secretly settled in with the quirky human girl, posing as her iPod.

Then everything changed.

While Chibi-'Bee, Byte and Kelsey were attending classes the two Autobots had detected a Decepticon energy signature. Fearing the worst, the two 'bots made a pact to reveal themselves to the woman. That afternoon, they had done just that.

But not before the yellow Autobot could cause one last bit of mischief…

Hm. Not a bad place to pick up the story.

(1)

"What do you mean it's not Vista's fault? My laptop's been glitching out since the moment we installed that damn – hey, don't you – hello? Hello?? SLAG!!"

I snickered to myself as Kelsey slammed down the phone in anger. Byte scolded me from the next room where he had been listening to the altercation on the phone. Just after my arrival to her home, I had gotten bored with playing the good little laptop and had started to interrupt her work. It was just little stuff at first; screwing with her word processing program, reorganizing applications, making rude noises... You know, nothing that would get myself slagged. I didn't really intend to do much more than that, but this _would_ be my last chance to mess with her. So when she tried to boot me up to do homework, I froze the start-up and displayed a code which, if she'd been able to read binary, could be interpreted to mean "bite me." She'd finally gotten mad enough to call this "tech support" line that she'd been threatening to contact since the beginning. Needless to say, the man on the other end denied that his employer had any and all fault for the error.

I watched her for a moment before Byte crept out of her room and waved at me. It was now or never. I revved my cooling fan and un-muted my vocals.

"He lied – it's all Vista's fault."

The human's head whipped up so fast that even Byte winced. "What?" she asked.

I was getting pretty amused by that point. But enough with the games, we had Decepticon aft to kick. "Ya heard me, he lied."

One eyebrow slowly raised itself a little higher. "Uh, duh…" By this point she had pinpointed the voice as coming from my speakers. Cautiously she poked my side.

"Hey, that tickles!"

"HOLY SLAG!!"

I quickly transformed and put a hand over her mouth to quiet her. Behind her, Byte was on the floor laughing so hard his frame was vibrating. Kelsey seemed to get over the shock rather quickly though, and before her family could come see what the fuss was about she grabbed me and darted around the corner into her personal quarters. Byte ducked inside just as she turned and closed the door.

I wiggled out of her grip and grabbed my companion, climbing up onto her favourite chair and reclining as if the entire situation was completely normal. Byte sat in my lap and flashed the human an apologetic look. Kelsey was shaking, but otherwise for an organic she was taking things extremely well. Finally, she managed to squeak out a single word:

"Autobots?"

Byte (who I'd neglected to share my research regarding the cartoons/movies with) looked as shocked as my human. "How did you know?"

I databurst him with the information I'd found.

"Oh. Never mind."

From there, Byte and I filled her in on what we knew.

Which basically wasn't much. The Decepticons had a weapon that was sending 'bots to other realities, we were stuck in one of said alternate realities, and now a big bad and ugly was nearby probably looking to pick off as many Autobots as he could while we were separated from the main forces. She sat on her bed thoughtfully for a few minutes before she replied "okay."

(1)

After that, they had decided to sit and wait for the Decepticon to make a move. The chance that he would attack directly was low, relying more on mini-bots like themselves to locate and take out the Autobots while remaining safely under cover himself.

The Decepticon hadn't reappeared for two weeks. In that time, Byte and Chibi-'Bee had redoubled their efforts to contact other Autobots by sending encrypted messages throughout the web. So far there had been no response. Then Kelsey had suggested a different approach; use the fandom to make direct contact.

She had theorized that that if 'Bee could find the Transformer fan sites, then other Autobots could as well. By making posts that at first glance looked like everyone else's, they could try and sneak messages out to the others. Just a few key words sprinkled into a forum debate or story…

Which was why they were writing something called "fanfiction." Chibi-'Bee hated the entire idea, but the organic was right. Traditional, direct forms of Cybertronian communication could be compromised. So here he was, trying to write up how he had gotten here in the first place, hoping someone on _their_ side would see it and try to contact them.

Later that night after Kelsey and Byte had gone to sleep/defrag, Chibi-'Bee finished reviewing what he had written and posted it to the woman's internet account.

Now, he mused, the real waiting would begin.

(1)

HA! Pardon the bragging, but I haven't written this much since junior high! I'm actually kinda giddy right now. If you're having any trouble picturing CB, he looks like a cross between Bumblebee and Frenzy. That's the Chibi-Bee.

Thanks to TinySprite for putting this story on alert! Getting that notice kicked my aft into gear to finish this chapter.

Thank you for reading my fan fiction!


	3. 2: Stardate 12whatever: personal logs

Adventures of the Chibi-'bee

By Nurannoniel Amruniel T.I.M.E.

A/N: You know, the usual. Oh, and Bee's snarky little opinions are his own, and don't necessarily reflect the real-life views of this author.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hey squishies, CB here. So anyways, it's been over a year since we've started this little project. Nothing's happened since then, which probably means that Ironhide's found the toaster that got us stuck here and has already sent him to the Pit and back. In other words, we're slagged. And since we ain't picking up signals anymore, me, Byte, and Kelsey have decided to scrap this thing. ("Besides," Kelsey says, "we think we saw someone writing pretty much the same story and they are probably doing a much better job of it.")

While the main story we had going is toast, I started up some personal logs on Kelsey's Gaia online account. What I'll do is every time I get a few entries done, I'll stick 'em up here in one bigger post for ya just in case you're still interested in how Byte and I are doing. Unless something changes, that's probably all you'll see up here now. So here they are, my first two log entries!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Day 448**

It's been two years since Byte and I first became stranded here, and a little more than a year since we detected the Decepticon signal in this area. Obviously it's gone again, or we wouldn't be sitting around here playing on your pitiful excuse for a world-wide online database. No more Autobots have appeared in the area, either. Maybe Ironhide finally blew the slagger that was landing us here to bits? Now there's a pleasant thought! :D

The squishy we've been living with restarted her college classes lately. Today is one of those days where she dragged me along to take notes for her. I guess I kind of owe it to her to help her out, since did I scrap her original laptop when I first got to this Universe... Whatever. Since letting her type doesn't take much processing power, I'm bored now. The dude teaching this... business class? really? C'mon, this is a joke... . Anyway, the dude teaching her class ain't really all that prepared for it, and the instructional videos he keeps showing would knock out a maintenance drone they're so dull. I'm not sure I want to know what today's guest speaker would've been like. Thank Primus he cancelled! If we could package this kind of power, the Decepticons would all be in stasis by now.

Squishy's poking me 'cuz she knows I ain't paying attention. Heh. Her problem, not mine.

"BEEEEP."

"Hey! *cough* Excuse me... .* _I thought you promised not to do that in class anymore_?"

:D

So what kind of slag is there for a bored, stranded micro-'bot to rant about? Other than how dirty your organic planet it. That's a given.

Meh, this "blog" thing ain't really doing much for my boredom, either. I guess I'll catch you later, squishies!

~CB

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Day 457**

Got to have a good laugh at Byte today. He and the Squishy went out so she could meet one of her classmates to work on some presentation. They were on their way back when Byte thought he spotted one of Prime's squad commanders and my nick-namesake, Bumblebee, parked in the local convenience store's lot. Turns out it was just some fanboy's new camaro painted up to look like the commander. My Squishy had to stuff Byte in her purse just as he was transforming in the middle of the bus isle so no one would see him. Got himself tied up in his own speaker cords too! Dumb iPod was grumbling to me over the comm. line the remaining 3 blocks home. She still had him stuffed in her purse when her sibling told her to take their pet canine for a walk, which made his mood even worse, 'cuz she couldn't stop to take him out and untie him with her brother tossing the leash to her and shoving her out the door.

So he's still sulking, hanging half out of her purse and watching the dirty organic world go by when he spots a chevy Silverado. Not just any chevy Silverado; a _bright yellow_ chevy Silverado with _black racing stripes_. Clearly Primus is taunting the micro-bot today. :D

So Byte's melting himself down with how annoyed he is, and all the squishy can say is,

"The camaro does it better."

Personally I jut think they're all jealous of me, but whatever. Maybe this planet isn't so bad after all?

~CB


	4. 3 CB and Byte's logs 3 to 5

Byte's Intermission 1 (11/12/2009)

Greetings. I am Special Operations agent Byte, filling in for Bumblebee today since he appears to have contracted what the humans call "the flu." Please allow me to explain:

Though he would never admit it, C-Bee feels somewhat guilty for destroying the human Kelsey's original laptop. As such, he tries to make up for it by maintaining some of her portable personal computer needs. In order to do so he occasionally incorporates software updates from the original laptop's operating system, Windows Vista. This has previously caused him to malfunction.

I would have thought he'd learned from those experiences, but it seems not.

He did not thoroughly check over the most recent updates, nor did he remember to create a restore point in the programs. One of the updates has appeared to unintentionally tamper with with his cooling systems, causing his fans to cut in and out. It sounds very similar to the human's respiration, which has been affected by a virus in recent days.

One is now resting under a heated blanket trying to stay warm, while the other is laying on several ice packs in his alternate mode waiting for Kelsey's sibling to return and safely repair the problem.

Needless to say, I am thoroughly amused.

The human has recently created a second Gaia account to mimic an alternate version of the Autobot's CMO, Ratchet, in order to "cosplay" him. While this has yet to lure any true members of my kind out of hiding, I am tempted to use it to continue seeking out other lost Autobots.

Ah, pardon me, the youngling is whining about his condition again. I suppose I should at least go make sure he won't offline before he is repaired...

~Byte, Spec. Ops.

Day... Aw, Who Cares? (Re. false comm.s) Jul 16, 2010

Hey. If you don't know who I am yet, my name is *:}{*&x-. I am an Autobot scout from the planet Cybertron. Since obviously you squishies can't translate my name from my native language, Cybertronian, you may call me by the (ughhh) nickname my human room mate gave me: Chibi Bumblebee, or CB for short.

**Quote:**

_"Sorry that I had to send this message. Since Gaia has recently become very popular, has become the many complaints that Gaia has become unacceptably slow. The report shows that the reason is that Gaia has a number of non-active members and, secondly, many new Gaia members.  
We want to send this message to see whether you're active members or not. If you're active, can you send this message to at least 10-15 users. Use the "Copy - Cut and Paste" to show that you are still active. Those who do not send this message within 2 weeks in, will be removed in order to get more space.  
Send this message to your friends to show me that you are still active, and do not want to be removed._

_Gaiaonline founder"_

You know what frags me off whenever I get one of these comm.s? That somebody was dumb enough to create it in the first place. You know what else frags me off? That most 'bots fall for it.

I mean, look at it; since when do professional memos contain spelling and grammatical errors? Primus help me if I ever sent out an official report as slagged up as this thing is, 'cuz my superiors would shoot my aft to the Pit and back for bein' so careless. Word to the wise, squishies:

If it ain't proofread, it probably ain't credible.

And for bootin' up cold, use some _common sense_! Gaia Online is able to track when an account was last logged in to - something that, in fact, can often openly be viewed on one's profile. Oh, and if it were really that big an issue, would it not be more efficient and far-reaching to use their already-established announcement system to inform all the fleshies at once that there's a problem?

While the message implies that it's from an official source, this is an old chain-letter tactic often used by those of malevolent intent to slow and eventually crash communication servers. You heard me - this is _spam_.

You won't damage yourself by ignoring this message, but by forwarding chain letters like this one you contribute to the issue that the message is supposedly trying to resolve; server overload and congestion. I post this as a friendly note to you young and maybe-not-so-experienced humans out there; you are perfectly safe in disregarding messages like this one in the future. If you receive this message from your peers, you do not need to forward it. You will not suffer any negative consequences. Your account will probably continue to function long after you cease to.

The Smelting Pits will freeze over and the Chaos Bringer will eat me before one of these piece-of-slag comm.s is real.

~CB

Byte's Log, Terran date Oct. 24, 2010

Greetings, organics. I am Autobot S.O. agent Byte once again borrowing our human host's log.

In the months since Chibi-'Bee's and my arrival in this reality, we have had limited luck in locating and contacting others of our kind. We have had even less good fortune in finding a way to return to our own reality. A scant number of other Cybertronians have moved into this area, but communication with them has mutually been left at a minimum. Though many of us still wear our factions' insignias, we have unanimously come to an unspoken agreement; for us, the war is over, and in our shared exile we have come to know a sort of peace.

But in that peace, we each face a new enemy that none can overcome for long:

Our own physiology, alien to this word, and how it now succumbs to the limits this reality has set upon us.

While it is true that we Cybertronians can adapt foreign fuels to meet our power needs, it is a poor substitute for true energon and we eventually suffer for it. I myself have felt the cold, creeping sense of my system's decay as my power cells begin to fail. The time between when I am fully operational to when I must recharge is becoming shorter and shorter. Thankfully it is as-of-yet the only symptom of my hunger. Chibi-'Bee has not been so fortunate.

He has valiantly attempted to conceal the growing number of system errors plaguing him, but I knew it could not last. Over the past few months his performance has become sluggish. His comm. systems flicker in and out and his processing ability is compromised. File corruption has become common.

He has had difficulty rebooting himself and in waking from slumber, and recently his power cells completely failed to recharge. For an Autobot this is a critical failure and means deactivation once one's in-built power supply is depleted. Chibi-'Bee's saving grace has been his self-created form of life-support.

CB has been using his alt. mode's power adapter system, taken from the computer he originally replaced himself with, to fuel himself. The adapter had become worn and burnt out, but he vehemently refused to admit it needed replacing and went so far as to modify it himself to continue the deception of functionality. This has not helped his failing systems any.

When at last he went into stasis lock this morning, our host, Kelsey, was not pleased to say the least.

There is little we can do for his internal state at this time, but we frantically raced out to replace the power adapter so that Chibi-'Bee could attempt to refuel. This has appeared to have had some measure of success. The young Autobot recharged for the better part of this solar cycle. After a series of diagnostics and at the insistence of our host for Chibi-'Bee to raise his power consumptions levels from "power saver" to "optimal," he appears to be functioning properly again (his reduced power consumption in addition to the adapter's damage could have been compared to starving one's-self to preserve one's dwindling supply of nutritionally deficient rations).

It is hard to say how long his current stability will last.

As it is with all Cybertronians exiled in this foreign reality, we will eventually fail and deactivate from energon hunger. In the face of this fate it is hard to believe that our archaic war was all for naught, for within a few hundred of this planet's stellar cycles none of us ancient beings shall remain here to remember why we fought in the first place.

I write this perhaps final report from my own adapted recharge berth; a clock radio designed to seat my alt-mode, an iPod nano. Like CB, this new power source has bought me a measure of time. Like CB, it is hard to say how long my power cells' stability will last.

Our war is at last over, and in our shared knowledge of our eventual fate, we have come to know peace.

~Byte, Autobot Spec. Ops.

(A/N and disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or the movie rights, I'm just borrowing them for a way to pass the time. 'Bee's snarky little opinions are his own, and don't necessarily reflect the real-life views of this author.)


End file.
